The road to courage
by BatJunior
Summary: Christian doesn't know what to make of the world anymore. He doesn't know how to do anything without feeling like his chest is about to explode with how fast his heartbeats every time he leaves his foster parents house but he especially doesn't know what to do about the memories that plague his dreams every time he closes his eyes. -May contain spoilers for civil war-
1. Chapter 1

Some days the pain became so unbearable that it was hard to breath. It became to hard to roll out of bed and face the world. No matter how many times he reminded himself that he was safe, that no one was going to hurt him anymore, it didn't change the fact that they were all dead, everyone he had ever loved was gone and nothing would ever change that and no amount of crying and begging was going to bring them back. The good days were becoming more frequent as the weeks went by but the bad days were always there, clawing at the back of his mind, itching to break through whenever he got too comfortable with his new life.

Christian ran a shaky hand over the golden cross hidden beneath his grey sweater. The cold metal distracting him from the crowd of people bustling through the halls. Every once in a while someone would brush up against him, his hands curled into fists at the feeling. He felt trapped, backed into a corner with nowhere to go. He just had to get through one more class, one more class and he can go back to his foster parents and hide in his room until he is forced out to eat something. Just one more class and he'll be ok.

He let out a shaky breath trying to calm his already erratic nerves. "You're ok, you're ok," he mumbled to himself. Christian pulled his biology textbook from his locker and held it tightly to his chest as if it could shield him away from everyone and everything. He slowly made his way towards his last class of the day, even though there was still twenty minutes left before the bell rang. Getting to class early helped to ease his nerves slightly, he liked to watch everyone walk in so he knew who everyone was and where they were sitting. It gave him a sense of calm to his already crazy world.

Just as he entered the classroom his phone vibrated in his back pocket. A text from his foster mum, letting him know she was working late and to stop by on the way home. Christian sighed as he slumped into his usual seat at the back right hand corner of the classroom. His teacher; Mr Simmons was already present, grading tests at the front of the class. It was an understanding they had quickly come to. Mr Simmons understands his anxiety and allows him this time to breath without interruption on his behalf. Hes always kept a close eye on Christian and for that his is thankful.

As the day drew to an end Christian found himself still waiting silently in his Foster mums office, twirling around in the swivel chair he conveniently pushed into the corner of the office, out of prying eyes from the rest of the staff in the building. He sighed to himself for what felt like the hundredth time that afternoon. Melisa was stuck in a meeting and had been for the better part of afternoon, he could only imagine that she was just as annoyed as he was if not more.

He continued to spin around in the chair until his vision swam and he felt sick to the stomach. His head lolled back against the chair. He closed his eyes taking in all of the sensations around him, the cold flush of the air conditioner, the heat streaming through the floor to ceiling windows behind the desk, the bits and pieces of conversations floating in from the crowded hall. If he closed his eyes long enough it almost reminded him of him, back in Romania with his parents and baby sister. He misses everything about Băla, the markets, the familiar faces, even the married couple next door who used to scream at each other all night. Christian misses every part of it and to him that will never change.

His hand instinctively reached for his cross, rubbing his fingers across the smooth surface. He was so lost in thought that he almost missed Melisa enter her office had she not slammed the office door. It was another thing Melisa had to learn when Christian came to live with her. She needed to make sure she announced herself somehow when entering a room as not to frighten him, she was quick to learn this after his first day in the house. She had tiptoed into the living room after seeing him asleep on the sofa, in a panic he had nearly thrown a knife at her before realizing who was standing in front of him.

She is a family lawyer which was how she came across Christian in the first place. She was dealing with a case against an abusive father and a drug addict mother. The child was in foster care until other arraignments could be made. The first time she had seen him he was sitting in a tree in the front yard of the Orphanage reading an English dictionary. He had captivated her heart.

"How was school?" she asked, a soft smile appearing on her fraying features. Christian shrugged his shoulders lazily "Ok, I guess," he mumbled. He retracted his hand from his necklace letting it fall back into his lap. "I got my history paper back today,"  
"oh really, how did you do?"  
"I got an A+," he shrugged.

Melisa's face brightened with joy. She sat down gingerly in the seat opposite Christian, clasping her hands in her lap, as to keep them within his line of sight. "I'm so proud of you," she gushed "that's awesome." Christian shrugged in response, his face remained neutral even as a surge of warmth spread through his chest. "What did Mrs. Anderson have to say about it?"  
"She...says my English is better," he mumbled, he looked down at his hands, twisting the sleeves of his sweater between his fingers, "and my accounts of the war in Romania's perspective was...very r-riveting."

Melisa's smile faltered for a second but she smoothed her features out quickly. For a reason that has never been apart to Christian Melisa and his history teacher Mrs. Anderson have never gotten along, the tension is always so apparent when they are in the same room together. "Well that was nice of her,"  
"I guess."

A comfortable silence settled over them for a moment before Melisa stood from her chair. She walked the short distance towards Christian. "Why don't we head home, we can stop at that little place down the street you like to celebrate this grade of yours."

Saturday morning brought with it another long therapy session, leaving him tired and on edge. In an attempt to calm his nerves Christian resigned himself to sitting on the bench beneath the office building his foster mum works at. He didn't want to take the elevator up only to be stuck in a stuffy office listening to obnoxious lawyers complaining in the hallway. The streets surrounding the office complex was busy but not so much so that he felt threatened by their presence.

He relaxed further into the bench, pulling his legs onto the bench to sit cross legged. His backpack lay forgotten underneath the bench. He rubbed his fingers absentmindedly against his left wrist. It was a habit he had picked up from his last foster sister, she had a habit of rubbing her wrist when she thought no one was looking. She was a friend to him, a good friend. Christian was devastated when he was dropped back to the orphanage, his things thrown from the car like he meant nothing to them, nothing at all. He spent six months with that family, they reminded him so much of home and he loved it.

The bench creaked under the weight of someone new. Christian peeked out of the corner of his eyes to get a better look at the stranger. It was a girl, not much older then he. Her long brown hair was pulled into a pony tail beneath her brown baseball cap. She dressed simply in black jeans, a blue tank top and a brown jacket. Her phone was pressed securely against her ear but neither it nor she made any sound. He raised an eyebrow at the strange behavior, clenching his hands into fists in his lap.

Christian watched her from the corner of his eye for what felt like hours. She sat still the entire time, staring off across the road at something he couldn't see. He tucked a stray piece of his black hair behind his heavily pierced ear, his fingers lingering over one of the silver bars.

His phone vibrated in his pocket. She startled almost like she hadn't known he was there. He reached into his pocket, pulling out the small smart phone.

 _From Melisa  
I've just gotten out of court. I'm 20 minutes away from the office, did you want to go out for lunch?_

 _From Christian_

 _That would be ok. I'm sitting outside of the office._

 _From Melisa  
Alright, I'll see you soon._

He pocketed the phone, bringing his hands back to rest comfortably in his lap. He could feel her eyes on him, watching him. Panic began to rise in his chest. He toyed with the sleeves of his sweater in an attempt to calm his nerves. When that had no effect he reached for his cross, running his fingers across the smooth surface. It lay against his chest, hidden beneath his sweater. Only the golden chain could be seen lying around his neck. She turned away just as his panic was reaching it's peak. The busy streets no longer felt peaceful, it ignited his anxiety, pushing it to a whole other level.

A loud explosion rang through the streets. The ground beneath them shook viciously, throwing people to the ground in terror. Screams rang out around him. Christian grabbed a hold of the ailing on the bench, his knuckles turning white under the pressure.

A high rise building not to far from where they sat had been bombed, the top floors were on fire while large pieces of debris fell from the building, landing with such a tremendous bang that it shook the very ground. Christian watched in horror as floods of people ran for their lives, panic etched across their features. Children screamed and wailed all around. Some were picked up by people they did not know and carried from the blast sight.

A hand gripped his shoulder. Christians grey orbs met the hazel ones of the strange girl who sat beside him. "Are you alright?" she asked. To stunned to answer he simply nodded his head. His eyes trailed back to the site of the explosion. There were still hundreds of people running down the street, some had blood running down their faces and bodies.

Christian startled when he noticed the girl had taken off running towards the site of the explosion. Her baseball cap had fallen off and now lay forgotten in the middle of the street. "Ce naiba?" _-what the hell?-_ he mumbled. She was going to get herself killed, what was she thinking?

He ran after her, praying that someone was watching over them and would help them. He scooped up her baseball cap as he raced passed, holding it tightly in his shaking hands. Christian could just make her out through the crowd a few feet ahead of him. She stopped near the base of the building. There were others there as well, men and woman. They seemed to be trying to evacuate the area.

Another explosion sounded from his right. This explosion was from somewhere on the street, it ruptured the side of a high rise building. The explosion hit many passersby, flinging them around like rag dolls, most did not get back up, they lay there in a bloodied heap, men, woman and children. Christian had to look away before he started to remember his own childhood.

The tower toppled down, smashing into the buildings surrounding the dust began to clear Christian noticed a small figure standing in the middle of the street. She looked no older then five. She stood clutching a stuffed bear, wailing loudly. The side of her head was caked with blood but it didn't look to be her own. The concrete pillar behind her groaned, it began to lean forward into the power lines. They snapped, sparks hissing out of the severed wires as it hurtled towards her.

Christian found himself racing towards her. His heart beating wildly in his chest. He reached his arms out to encircle her small body, pulling her close to his chest as he skid across the ground. His knees took the brunt of the force a burning pain racking up his legs. He could hear the screams of those on the street, yelling for them to move but there wasn't time to get back up and run.

He squeezed his eyes shut, his body tingled, his skin pulsing with a blue tinge. A bright light encircled them both, the noise from the street faded into nothingness. He kept her close to his chest, his hands coming to rest on the back on her head.

There was another burst of blue light back of the street. Christian skidded along the ground, his right arm and leg scrapping across the cement. He hissed in pain as his cloths were torn and stained in blood. He pulled her from the ground, placing his hands on her shoulders gently, "are you alright?" she nodded slowly, her eyes wide with wonder. He smiled timidly "I need you to listen to me very carefully, ok?" she nodded again "you see that police man, right over there?" he pointed down the street to where an officer was directing people to a safe destination. "I need you to run over to him. Do not stop until you reach him, understood?" again she nodded, "Good,now go, do not stop."

Christian removed his hands from her shoulders, he watched her wobble towards the officer, her teddy still clutched securely in her arms. When he was sure that she wouldn't turn around and run off somewhere else he turned back. Several other buildings had crumbled while he had been between spaces. Christian raked his shaky hands through his black locks.

He jogged down the street, he scanned over every surface and every crevasse, looking for someone, something that might indicate life.

He heard the screams before he saw anything. He turned down the street to his right. They were still there, the ones he had seen the brown haired girl with. They looked to be fighting, throwing things and yelling. Christian could just make out the girl, her hands were glowing red. She moved like she was dancing her hands swaying in front of her it was almost hypnotizing.

The ruins of the building behind her was still crumbling around the edges. His feet picked up speed as he raced towards her. She didn't seem to notice the crumbling building behind her. Christian knew he wasn't going to make it on foot so he jumped. A burst of power shot through him, it sent tingles from the tips of his fingers to ends of his toes. A blue light enveloped him and in the blink of an eye he appeared right in front of her. His body collide with hers and in that split second, that split second that it took to draw in a strangled breath, the light had taken a hold of them shooting them out further down the street.

Christian turned them around so he took the brunt of the fall, he landed on his back against a bile of debris. He cried out as they landed, his back colliding hard with the pile of cement and steal rods. The adrenaline in his veins took away most of the pain but not all. He rolled over, shifting his weight so that she could lay beside him. He pushed himself up onto his elbows, looking down at her bewildered face. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?" he spat.


	2. Chapter 2

_Christian turned them around so he took the brunt of the fall, he landed on his back against a pile of debris. He cried out as they landed, his back colliding hard with the pile of cement and steal rods. The adrenaline in his veins took away most of the pain but not all. He rolled over, shifting his weight so that she could lay beside him. He pushed himself up onto his elbows, looking down at her bewildered face. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?" he spat._

She ignored Christian in favor of surveying their surroundings. They were laying on a pile of debris a few feet from where she had just been standing. She looked at Christian taking in his dis-heaved appearance. The right arm of his sweater was torn in half, his arm caked in blood. Large gashes lined the side of his neck and face and blood was beginning to soak into his jeans. Christian's face was marked with tiny cuts and gashes and a bruise was beginning to form over his left check.

She opened her mouth to yell at him, to chastise him for running towards the explosions like some idiot, for jumping in and saving her when he could have been killed as well but the argument died in her throat. He had the same look in his eyes that her brother once did, the look of agony of a boy who had seen too much. "Thank you," she settled for instead.

He nodded stiffly. He rose up on shaky legs. Even with the adrenalin coursing through his veins his body still ached and groaned in protest of every movement no matter how small. He grabbed a hold of a steel rod that was sticking out of the debris. He used it to lower himself to the ground. Christian turned back to help her down. He tried to maintain as little physical contact as possible. "I'm Wanda by the way,"  
"Christian," he greeted. She smiled sweetly at him. If he looked closely enough he might be inclined to believe she was a nice person but nice people don't come into his life, they never have. "Give me your hand," Christian instructed. Wanda took his hand hesitantly. His hands were clammy and hot to the touch. His skin felt as if there was a fire raging on underneath his skin.

Christian took in a deep breath, the air around them lite with a soft blue light. It engulfed them in it's warmth and almost in the blink of an eye they found themselves falling to the ground in the midst of the battle. A chunk of cement flew over head. Christian stayed crouched close to the ground while the fight raged on over head. He clenched his hands into fists in an attempt to calm his racing heart. A yelp escaped through clenched teeth when what looked to be a shield whizzed past his head.

Strong arms were suddenly around his waist, pulling him up on his feet. They dragged him behind an abandoned taxi, pushing him down to crouch behind the vehicle. Wanda hurried after them. She crouch down on Christian's other side. Her back was to him as she peered around the other side of the car. Christian choose this time to get a closer look at the man who still had a strong grip around his waist.

He was tall, at least a foot or two taller then Christian. His long black hair was pulled back into a lose, messy bun. A light dusting of stubble grazed his pale features. He was handsome even in sweat pants and a tank top anyone could see that but he held himself in such a way that demanded respect. His metal arm was what caught his attention though, it stuck out from his dis-heaved appearance in a way that wasn't entirely bad.

He looked back to Wanda only to find the space she had occupied empty. Christian tried to stand but the arm around his waist tightened, pulling him backwards into the strangers side. "Stay down," he hissed. Christian went slack against his side. His heart was beating so loudly that he was sure everyone within a ten mile radiance could hear it. He could feel himself begin to panic. A burning sensation worked it's way through his body, tearing at his insides. Christian hasn't been this close to another human being since his parent's were killed. It brought back memories and feelings he had tried to bury a long time ago. He dug his fingers into the palm of his hand, his blunt nails pressing into sensitive flesh.

Christian was momentarily stunned from his panic at the sight of a body colliding with the top of the car he was hiding behind. The car sagged and crunched beneath the weight of their body. They rose from the vehicle almost as quickly as they had been thrown into it. As they jumped from the roof the of the car Christian noticed that it wasn't a person but in fact a robot.

It towered over everything, it's metal figure struck fear within Christian. There didn't seem to be any noticeable damage to it's body, nothing that they threw at it seemed to be doing any damage. Christian didn't protest when he was dragged back further, the arm around his waist tightening. He only flinched when a gun was propped up against the rear of the car. He instinctively covered his ears. The arm around his waist withdrew for a moment. Several rounds were fired at it but no damage was done. The bullets crushed upon impact with it's body, simply falling to the ground.

The robot turned to face them, it's red eyes bore into them as the corners of it's metallic mouth curled up into a smile. Christian shuffled backwards until his back came in contact with a warm chest.

A chunk of cement was hurled at it's head, forcing to to crank to the side. It turned around to face the direction it was hurled from. Christian followed it's gaze. Wanda stood a few feet away, a look of determination on her face. Her friends stood behind her, crouched, ready to attack. Christian recognized a few of them from the news. They were the Avengers, well most of them were but the face behind him was not one he had seen before.

It started it's assent on Wanda and in a brief spout of panic he slammed his right fist into the ground with such force that the skin across his knuckles burst open, spilling blood across the cement and staining his porcelain skin red. The ground trembled, large cement spikes shot up from the ground leading towards the robot. They shot up higher into the air the closer they got. He raised his hand in front of him and in one swift motion squeezed his hand into a tight fist. One last spike shot up, stabbing right through the machine's chest.

There was a beat of silence as Christian watched on. The robot went ridged, it's body slumped forward against the spike sticking out of it's chest. The Avengers moved quickly, dissembling the robots body before it had time to reboot.

Arms encircled Christian's waist, helping him off the ground. He stood on shaky legs, his bloodied fist held tightly against his chest. Christian lent back against the taxi, taking in a few strangled breaths. He surveyed his surroundings, no one was paying him much attention, not even the man who had pulled him up was paying close enough attention. He was too busy picking up his weapons to notice to blue light envelope Christian. He stumbled out into the parking lot of a hospital, his knees scraping against the cement when he became to disorientated and dizzy to stand. When the dizziness passed Christian pushed himself up, his legs protested at the added weight but he pushed on, stumbling through the doors of the hospital.

People were scattered everywhere, beds pushed into the halls to hold the influx of patients that were spread over every surface. They were all covered in blood, weather it was caked into their skin or rubbed across their clothes like they had brushed up against someone recently. It was horrid to look at but even worse to think of all of those who had died today. Christian collapsed onto the floor by the door. The woman beside him gave no indication that she noticed his presence and he counted that as a small win, that was all he could do not to burst into tears.

It was hours before a doctor came to check on him. Christian didn't recognize him from the usual staff at the hospital. Over the months he has spent living with the 'Clides' he has come to memorize many of the faces working along side his foster father at the hospital but this one he didn't recognize. The doctor was brash and quick to assess and bandage any injury he had, his hands were rough and tight as he gripped Christian's arm as he swabbed roughly at his open wounds. His wounds were mostly superficial, they were cleaned and wrapped in gauze. His knees, thighs and arms were wrapped tightly but the gash across his chest needed a few stitches. His right hand was set with a splint.

Christian was quickly pushed aside in favor of another patient. The hospital was still crowded with people, some he was sure had passed away during the evening but was too scared to check if they were still alive. He stuffed the pain prescription in his back pocket and began his journey back to the house. The sun had gone down, leaving the blistering cold to settle over the city. He rubbed his hand against his uninjured arm, trying to circulate some warmth into his bones. Now that he was away from prying eyes the horror of everything finally hit him and it hit him hard, tears cascaded down his face in waves, the salty tears stinging the tiny cuts mirroring his face. He viciously rubbed his hands against his eyes but it had no effect in stopping the influx of tears.

Everything hurt so much, he hasn't felt so lost and scared since he was a child in Romania, after his parents had been killed. He remembered wandering the streets covered in blood and calling out into the night for help but no one had helped him then and no one was going to help him now. He raced across the street not bothering to look for oncoming traffic when he noticed the familiar brick house up ahead. He stopped in front of the door taking in a shuddering breath before he twisted the door knob letting the door swing open with an obnoxious 'squeak'. The house would have been quiet had it not been for the clanging of cutlery from the kitchen.

Christian closed the door behind him making sure to flick the lock. He toed off his shoes and kicked them lazily into the corner by the door. As he rounded the corner into the living room Melisa was already half way across the room, drying her hands with a checkered tea-towel. Her eyes were brimmed red like she had just finished crying. She dropped everything when she noticed Christian standing in the door way. She rushed towards him, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. Christian shied away from her touch, he stepped back examining her with cautious eyes. Melisa lowered her arms, a watery smile appearing on her face. "Why don't you sit down, sweety." She steered him towards the sofa making sure not to physically touch him. Christian settled down into the corner of the sofa and tucked his legs under him. Melisa disappeared into the kitchen, she returned a few moments later with a bowl of warm water and a wash cloth. She sat down on the edge of the coffee table across from Christian, setting the bowl down beside her. She wet the wash cloth in the warm water and set about dabbing at the dried blood on his face and neck. He shivered involuntarily at the touch. Her hand stilled against his face. She removed her hand, leaning over him to pull the throw rug over his shivering body. Christian pulled it tightly around him, tucking it under his chin.

Melisa worked in silence, cleaning the remainder of the blood from his face. Christian was half asleep by the time she set the washcloth down on the coffee table. She watched him for a moment, a soft smile on her lips. This scene reminded her so much of the first time he came home with them, he was just a scared little boy then who refused to sleep anywhere that didn't have a view of the front door. He had come so far since then but it now felt like he was running backwards at full speed until he came to a haltering stop where he had first begun. She settled herself down in the arm chair for what was no doubtingly going to be a long night.

It was a long night, Christian woke up in a panic every few hours, his body drenched in sweat and a nightmare clinging to the edges of his mind. He last woke at 5am, swallowing down a scream. He lay tossing and turning for the next hour before he couldn't take it anymore and rolled off the sofa. He showered, cleaning his wounds and redressed them before sneaking into the kitchen. He took a tub of strawberry yogurt from the fridge, drinking it from the tub not bothering with a spoon.

Christian swallowed his medication dry. He left a quick note on the kitchen counter before he left the house quickly and quietly, barley remembering to take the spare key and lock the door behind him.

Christian walked in silence. Not many were out this early, only the occasional jogger or cyclist and every once in a while a car would speed past him. He had so many thoughts running through his mind, so many questions that needed answers but he didn't know where to begin or who to ask. He was scared that everything that happened yesterday; the bombings, that it was going to happen again. Things like that just didn't come out of nowhere especially not with the way that it happened, it seemed planned, a little too well planned.

Living in constant fear is something that he's used to but this feels different, it feels like he's walking around with a weight resting over his entire body and no matter how much he struggles under it it won't move.

Christian sat down in the back pew of church. He pulled his leather jacket closer to him, tucking his shaking hands into the pockets. Only a few people occupied seats within the church. It was too early for service but it didn't stop those inside from sitting in silent prayer. Christian lent forward, resting his hands against the back of the pew in front of him. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes. He prayed for those who lost their lives yesterday and those still fighting to save them today. He prayed for all the children still waiting to be reunited with their parents and he prayed for the safety of the family he lived with now. Christian prayed for the safety of everyone and everything he could think of and when nothing else came to mind he opened his eyes and lent back, resting his head against the back of the pew.

His fingers absentmindedly rubbed over his cross. The surface was no longer smooth and without rough edges. A large chip marked the bottom right hand corner of the cross and it was covered with tiny scratches that weren't there yesterday morning. His mother would chastise him if she could see him now, he could almost here her scolding him, complaining about how he should always look presentable when he leaves the house, even more so after he had developed a love for superheros and refused to leave the house without his cap his nanna had made him. It's one of his happier memories. He smiles every time he thinks about how she would roll her eyes at him when he would run back inside to fetch his cape and buddy bear just so he could walk to the markets with her but she would always smile at him and call him her 'little hero'.

Christian sat through the service in a sullen mood. He stayed sitting in the back pew, observing those around him with false interest. He recognizes most of the faces in the crowd from previous Sunday services but there were some he did not recognize, there always were, people come in off the street to sit in the house of god and listen but this morning he regarded those faces he didn't know with extreme caution.

Christian was the last to leave church. He purposefully waiting until everyone was gone before standing and making his way from the building. He turned down the street back towards the house, his hands tucked securely into the pockets of his leather jacket. It was warmer outside now that the sun had peeked out from behind the clouds and with that warmth brought with it busy streets and backed up traffic.

He shuffled inside, throwing off his jacket and kicking his shoes into the corner by the door. Christian dropped his key into the bowl by the door and left quickly in the direction of the kitchen, his stomach growling for something more sustainable then yogurt. Christian bypassed the living and dining room, preferring to speed down the hall rather then walk through the living room. Melisa called out after him but he chose to ignore her in favor of ducking his head into the fridge. He shuffled around Tupperware containers and bags of fruit of veg before settling on a bowl of chicken salad that was left over from the night before last.

He sat heavily in one of the bar chairs, pulling out a folk from the drawer on his way through. Christian was shoveling a mouthful of salad into his mouth when Melisa entered through the archway into the kitchen. "Christian," she tried again, "there is someone here to see you." Christian frowned around his mouthful, he doesn't get visitors, he doesn't know anyone that doesn't live here apart from his therapist and she doesn't do house calls. He glanced over his shoulder at the archway. He swallowed thickly, nearly chocking on the large clumps of food being forced down his throat. "Wanda?"  
"Hi Christian," she greeted. She looked mostly the same as she had when he met her yesterday. She was dressed in grey jeans and a burgundy sweater and her hair was tossed back in a high pony tail. A small cut marked her check and forehead but apart from that she looked mostly unharmed which is more then he could say for himself. "I'll leave you two to it," Melisa smiled. She left the way she came, back through the living room.

Christian watched her go, when he determined that she was far enough away he turned back to Wanda. His face contracted in a scowl. "What are you doing here?" he asked between clenched teeth. His accent becoming so thick that his words were almost incomprehensible. "You disappeared yesterday, I wanted to be sure you were safe." Her answer momentarily stunned him into silence. He opened and closed his mouth a few times trying to form some semblance of a sentence but when nothing came out he snapped his mouth shut with an audible click.

He spun around in the chair to fully face her, his hands coming to rest in his lap. He frowned, confusion settling over his features. "I don't understand your concern."  
"What don't you understand? When you disappeared yesterday you looked awful. You saved my life Christian the least I could do is make sure you weren't lying in a ditch somewhere dying." He doesn't know how to properly register her concern. They are complete strangers to one another and yet she feels compelled to make sure he is safe. He doesn't understand why she would take the time to come and see him. There aren't many people in the world who have shown him kindness and he doesn't know how to respond to it.

Wanda took a step towards him. Christian tried hard not to flinch, he dug his blunt finger nails into his palm to try and keep himself from flinching. Wanda recognized the look of fear in his eyes. His face remained blank but his eyes showed everything he wasn't willing too. She took a step backwards, watching as his body relaxed slightly in his seat. "I'm fine, your concern isn't needed."  
"You don't look fine to me,"  
"Well I am. My appearance looks worse then it is." Wanda doubted that very much. From what she could see of his bare skin, he was covered in dark bruises and shallow cuts. White bandages were peaking out of the hem and wrists of his sweater. He was pale yesterday but today he looked almost ghostly white. She didn't want to push him, they didn't know each other well enough to do so. "If you say so," she sighed. She pulled a folded slip of paper from her pocket, her number already etched in. "If you ever need anything, just give me a call."

He reached out with shaky hands, taking the slip of paper from her offered hand. "I will," he mumbled. The corners of his mouth twitched.


	3. AN

unfortunately I can no longer upload anything else to this story. Apparently the document formats on my computer are no longer comparable with this website however you can find me and this story with updated chapters /works/6953338/chapters/15853930


	4. Another AN

because it decided not to paste the website link properly I've had to write it out again for you so bare with me ? you can find me on 'wattpad' and 'archive of our own' under the name 'Batjunior' so if you would like to continue reading The road to courage please go check out my other pages.


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